Comedy Becomes Data
by Foxcat93
Summary: While on a mission to negotiate peace on the planet Naibe, Data tries to understand humor by writing a Holodeck program including many famous comic figures. Will Data ever figure out humor? Rated K-plus for a bit of slapstick violence.


**Comedy Becomes Data**

_The Silver Screen Mansion is a mythical mansion that stands on a street in Hollywood, high on a hill, only visible in the dark, and only on certain nights. It is said to be haunted, but no one knows for sure. It is visited, not by actors, screenwriters, musicians or directors, but by the immortal characters created by the aforementioned persons and by the mysterious workings of the silver screen._

_On a cold dark night…_

Data stopped reading the novel and switched over to searching for early 20th Century Earth movies. The android, Lieutenant Commander Data of the United Star Ship Enterprise-D, was fascinated by history. History in general, Earth history in particular. After all, his "father" was human, the illustrious Dr. Noonien Soong, inventor and android creator.

Some years before, Data had become fascinated with the Sherlock Holmes character and stories by Arthur Conan Doyle. His adventures in the Holodeck rivaled the best of Doyle's work. Now, because of a stray comment from one of the ensigns, Data decided to pursue another facet of Earth history.

Data sent the information, the novel and the early movies into the feed for the holodeck. His fingers flew with unbelievable speed as he wrote the program and then made sure it was random. He wanted it to be a true adventure.

Data's inner clock told him that it was time for his shift to start on the bridge. The program was ready and waiting. He rode the elevator to the bridge and took his seat as operations manager or "Ops." The Enterprise-D was headed for a small planet called Naibe in the Theta Andromeda system. The inhabitants had asked Starfleet's help in calming down a dispute between two warring factions. The factions, strangely enough, were not primitives, but so called "civilized" peoples living in cities. But disputes would arise over territory every so often and because the Naibens didn't seem to know how to negotiate, the disputes would often get out of hand.

"Captain Picard," spoke up second in command Will Riker, "are you sure that it's a good idea for Starfleet to get involved in this kind of dispute? It sounds like petty range wars…"

"They have asked us to negotiate this dispute and for some reason Starfleet feels this planet is an important lynch pin in the sector." Jean-Luc shrugged. "We shall see when we get there."

The planet was still a distance away and according to the time factor the Naibens had requested, it would be several days before the negotiations could begin. Jean-Luc had decided to allow his crew to take their off time before the talks began and run on a skeleton crew until Naibe was reached. At that time, all hands might be needed.

When Data's shift ended, his mind turned to thoughts of his new holodeck program. He had familiarized himself with most of the inhabitants of his created world and he only had one more item to take care of.

Geordi LaForge, the Enterprise-D's Chief Engineer, was also ending his shift. Geordi was Data's best friend aboard the ship and they shared many interests. Data sidled up to the blind engineer who could see better than most with his odd-looking, but remarkable visor. Geordi sensed that Data had something on his mind.

"What is it, Data?"

"Geordi, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the Holodeck. I have written a new program…"

"Another Sherlock Holmes?" asked Geordi, who usually played Watson to Data's Holmes.

"Not this time, Geordi. I have been studying Earth's early 20th Century film making. It is a fascinating subject…the beginnings of an industry where there was nothing to build on that went before…"

"We're going to make a film?"

"No…we are going to be in one…"

"What kind of film?"

"You know I have wanted to understand human humor better, Geordi…I am somewhat lacking in that area."

"So we're going to be in a funny movie…"

"I hope it will be…"

"If you wrote it, I sincerely doubt that it will be funny…"

"That is the best thing about this program, Geordi…I am going to let the characters write their own story. That way, I will start to understand humor."

"Hmmm," said Geordi. "Interesting concept! Well, funny or not, Data, I'm game."

"I have also been studying various theories of humor. That will also help me to analyze the various characters' humorous interactions."

Geordi rolled his eyes which were hidden behind the visor. He didn't say anything.

The two friends, one a dark-skinned blind man with ancestors from the African continent on Earth and the other, a mechanical man with yellow skin and golden eyes, stopped at the entrance to the Holodeck.

"I have asked for costumes to fit the period," said Data. "And you will be wearing an invisible visor so you will not seem different. Your eyes will appear normal to those looking at you. The time frame will be randomly selected for different scenes from about 1913 to 1935 in traditional Earth years."

As the two entered the Holodeck, the blank walls filled out with four-dimensional images. Geordi found himself in a light tan colored top hat and matching tail coat, standup collar, with a green waistcoat and matching four-in-hand tie. The android was attired in a black derby and tail coat, with red waistcoat and matching bow tie with wing collar. They both wore gloves and carried elegant looking walking sticks.

The two could see a large mansion on a hilltop, high above the city streets. "Look!" said Geordi, pointing. Data looked at the mansion which seemed dreamy, the clouds drifting lazily by.

"It is the mansion from the novel I was reading, Geordi," said Data. "I uploaded that into the holodeck too. But it is odd…it is supposed to be visible only in the dark…this must be evidence of the independent writing that I have programmed…"

Suddenly they were knocked over by three short men. All of them landed in a huge heap. "Watch where yer goin!" said one of them, with a "bowl" haircut. He stood up and turned to one of his companions who had wild curly hair, standing almost on end. The first one gave the second one an eye poke.

"Hey, what didja do that for?" said the wild haired one. As he tried to poke the first one back, his elbow hit the third man in the nose.

"What's the big idea?" yelled the third man, whose hair was shaved very close to his head. He was roly-poly and had a high voice.

"I'll give you a big idea!" said the first man, who twisted the third man's nose with his fingers.

"Whoo-whoo-whoo!" yelled the chubby man in his high voice.

Data and Geordi picked themselves up. The three short men were all wearing sandwich boards which read: _Travel to faraway places! Cheap!_

Geordi was laughing. "Now that's funny!"

Data said, "Yes, that is what is called 'slapstick'. It may be a bit violent for some, but no real harm is done to anyone. You see, the humor comes from the element of surprise, and in this case, the odd sound effects created when …"

"Data, I get it! I know these guys…" he spoke directly to the holograms. He pointed to the man with the "bowl" haircut. "Moe, is it?" Moe smiled and acknowledged himself with a bow.

"And Larry?" pointing to the wild-haired man.

"That's me!" said Larry, saluting.

"And everybody's favorite…Curley!" The chubby man with the very short hair bowed in several directions, bumping into Larry and Moe, who both hit him back. He "whoo-whooed" again.

Geordi was laughing so hard he could hardly stand up.

Data was analyzing the humor. "You see, when Curly makes that peculiar sound, it is humorous because it is expected. Oddly, humor is funny by being both expected and unexpected. That would seem illogical."

Geordi rolled his eyes again. He pulled his friend along. "Data, you're not 'getting' the humor yet. We better move along."

The Starfleet officers kept walking. They passed several store fronts and some houses. Suddenly, a man with curly blond hair and a beat-up top hat jumped out from nowhere. He was wearing a tan raincoat over a very loud colored tie which clashed with his loud colored plaid shirt. If one looked closely, it was evident that he was wearing both suspenders and a belt, neither of which were holding up his brown trousers. He stopped in front of the officers and gave a huge grin with his arm stretched out widely.

"Harpo!" said Geordi, "Or maybe I should say Tomasso, your character in _A Night at the Opera_?" The blond man grinned and nodded. He rushed at Geordi as if to embrace him, but instead ducked under his arm and went past. He turned around and grabbed Data's derby, looked at it, flipped it up into the air and exchanged it, on his head, for his battered top hat.

"Wait," said Data, "That is my hat!" Tomasso grabbed Geordi's hat too and juggled the three hats. He flipped one on his head. He threw his decrepit hat on Data's head and Data's hat on Geordi.

Suddenly another man with black curly hair and a pointed green cap ran up to the Starfleet officers. He wore a short green jacket and looked Italian. "Is Tomasso a-botherin you? He does-a that all-a the time. I tell him not to. So how mucha you pay me to keep him away from you. I take not much…say two-three hundred…"

Just then Tomasso stood behind the officers and started taking off Data's tail coat. He stuffed the tails in his own pocket, the rest of the coat hanging on the ground. He pulled off Data's tie. Data tried to fight him off, to no avail. Geordi was having the time of his life, laughing.

Fiorello spoke up again. "I tell-a you, he can't be a-stopped cept by the money. What you give me to stop him? I tell you what. I take-a da check. You sign-a right here." He produced a long scroll and a pen. He pointed to a line at the bottom.

"That does not look like a check…What am I signing?" asked Data.

"You sign away a lotta stuff…but it's notta important stuff. Just money and jewels…sign here." During this time Tomasso was silently walking up behind Data and he put the business end of his taxi horn right behind Data's head and beeped loudly several times. Data jumped nearly three feet off the ground. He dropped the scroll and pen. Tomasso laughed heartily, although silently, behind the android, to the point of rolling on the ground.

Geordi laughed, but asked Data, "Why didn't you hear him come up behind you with your android hearing, Data?"

"I wanted it to be as realistic as possible. I have turned several of my computerized senses down to human levels, so I will react as if I were more fully human. That way I will understand the humor. However that did not seem very funny to me; a human may have been scared witless. And Tomasso was _laughing_ at my discomfort…"

"And it was hilarious, Data! Your three-foot jump would have been the envy of any comic stuntman…"

A third man then joined them. He was wearing rimless glasses and had thick eyebrows and a mustache of greasepaint. His curly black hair was parted in the middle and he sported a cigar, which he twiddled about in his hand and his mouth. He wore a black coat with tails and a tie. He had a strange bent-over walk, and he rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows up and down as he talked.

"So, I see the Italian brothers have been bothering you. Did you bother them to pick up a pizza? It's the least they could do. Speaking of least, say, who was speaking of least? Well, it wasn't me. Let me introduce myself, I'm Otis B. Driftwood. I represent the right people. Some of the left people too. Say, who was left when I represented them? Nobody, I would say. What do you say?"

Data had no idea what Driftwood was saying and he couldn't get a word in edgewise to analyze why this type of verbal humor was funny.

Fiorello chimed in. "I say-a ya gotta sign-a this form. No form…no contract. And that's'a how the money's a made. Comes from the contract. Ya sign-a yer life away."

Driftwood chomped on his cigar, then wiggled it a bit in his mouth. "Fiorello, I don't believe you. That contract is phony. Just phone me and I'll tell you so. And just for that, you're a so-and-so."

While Driftwood and Fiorello were arguing, and the two Starfleet officers watching, Geordi with glee and laughter and Data with puzzlement, Tomasso approached tiptoeing with large steps behind them. He carried a huge scissors half as large as himself. He started cutting pieces of Geordi's tailcoat off. Geordi finally turned around and said, "Hey!" Tomasso ran off with his scissors.

Geordi took Data's arm and walked away from the arguing Driftwood and Fiorello. They kept walking up the street. They spotted a small café.

"Let's see what's going on inside the café, Data," said Geordi. He was enjoying himself a lot. Part of the enjoyment was the befuddlement on the part of Data. Data was trying to analyze the humor and his logical positronic brain wasn't ready for it.

Just before entering the café, Geordi stopped Data. The two were looking a bit tattered and torn from Tomasso's attack. Geordi pointed to his tattered tail coat. "Can you do something about this, Data?"

"Yes, I can do something…" He pulled a remote control out of his pocket. He pushed a few buttons at the speed of light. "I just reset our costumes, Geordi."

"Thanks," smiled the ship's engineer, as his costume returned to its former glory.

Data and Geordi entered the little café and sat down at a small round table. There were several other people sitting at other tables, drinking coffee, but Geordi didn't recognize any of them. They were probably just computer generated holograms of generalized people to fill in the crowd scenes.

A tall, rotund man came over to the two officers' table. He was wearing an apron and carrying a pad and pencil. "Welcome to the Silver Screen Café!" he said cheerily as he tipped his derby, which oddly, he was wearing inside the café. He had a very small, square black mustache and his thinning dark hair was carefully arranged in short curly bangs over his forehead.

"What can I get for you?" asked the man, smiling jovially.

Data turned to Geordi, as if the large man's hologram wasn't even there. "Geordi, this must be Ollie, half of the Laurel and Hardy team. Their humor was formed by their innocence and their…"

"Data, I get it!" Geordi wished Data would stop analyzing everything and just try to enjoy himself.

Ollie the holographic waiter was standing by patiently. "Can I take your order?" His Georgia accent and urbane way were charming.

Geordi spoke up. "I'd like the breakfast plate…or is it too late in the day?"

"Never too late for a paying customer," said Ollie, with a smile. "And for the…uh…yellow gentleman?"

"Give him the same, please," said Geordi. "Oh, and bring us both coffee."

"Very good, sir!" said Ollie, fiddling with his tie, flipping it around in his fingers.

Ollie went over to the counter where he called the order in to the cook, who happened to be the other half of the team, Stan Laurel.

"You know I do not need to eat," whispered Data to Geordi.

"Just do it to be polite, Data."

The two were served quickly and they ate their meals. Ollie came back to ask if they wanted dessert. Geordi asked what the choices were. Ollie said the lemon cream pie was the special of the day. "Oh, my favorite!" said Geordi. Bring us some of that.

When Ollie went back to the kitchen, Data and Geordi could hear some kind of argument and some moaning going on.

Ollie came out of the kitchen pulling Stan by the arm. "Stanley, I want you to apologies to our guests!"

"What for?" asked Data.

"Stanley forgot to make any lemon cream pie today for the special! All we have is cocoanut cream pie!"

Stanley was crying. "I didn't mean to…I just forgot!" he moaned. He was holding a cocoanut cream pie in his hands.

"Now you tell the nice man you're sorry and shake his hand."

"No, I can't do that!" moaned Stan.

"Yes, you can, and you will!" said Ollie, in his best "parent" voice.

Geordi held out his hand to shake Stan's hand and Stan, still sobbing loudly, obediently shoved his hand forward, the hand with the cream pie in it. Geordi got a handful and soon an armful of cream pie.

"Now, just look at the fine mess you've made!" said Ollie. He pulled Stan by the arm, back to the kitchen, stopping to say, "I don't know what to do with that boy!"

Geordi decided to inflict a bit of his own humor into the situation. He flung the pie at Ollie. It missed, but hit another customer. The customer, with rage, flung a pie back at Geordi. He ducked, but the pie hit a woman sitting behind Geordi. She screamed. Suddenly, holographic pies appeared in everyone's hand and the food fight started. Soon everyone was covered with white cream, cocoanut shreds and yellow pudding. Geordi was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Data had flung a few pies also, but wondered why everyone was having such fun being covered in sticky cream. He tasted the cream pie. His computerized senses analyzed the ingredients: cow's milk, cane sugar, chicken egg whites, cocoanuts, etc., etc. But his positronic brain couldn't tell him why a food fight was funny.

Data was still trying to analyze when Geordi said, "Let's get out of here…that was fun, but I feel like a mess! Fix our clothes again, Data."

The Starfleet officers exited the café, Data pushed some buttons, and their clothes were back to normal.

"Data, I've never been in a real food fight…what a high that was! … oh, and by the way, you were wonderful! You actually got into the food fight! Wasn't it fun?"

"What would you define as _fun_, Geordi? Being covered in sticky food ingredients? I have yet to find the humor in _that _situation."

"You mean you can't analyze that one?"

"Yes, I can, Geordi. However, I am beginning to see that humor seems to have an edge of cruelty to it also…"

"That could be true, Data, but no one is really getting hurt…"

Geordi wondered if Data was tiring of his search for humor. He wasn't finding it. "Data, there's a park over this way, let's take a walk."

Soon Geordi and Data were aware of a small man walking a little ways ahead of them. His walk was flat-footed and very odd; his feet pointed outward and he swayed from side to side with each step. To add to that, every few steps, he did a little "jump" and wiggled his shoulders. He wore a black derby and carried a bamboo cane, which he twirled merrily.

"Look, Data, it's Charlie the Little Tramp! Isn't his walk funny?"

"Perhaps…" Data was analyzing again. "Although, he looks as if his feet hurt…" They caught up with the man. He was very short and slight. He was dressed like a gentleman, although his clothes were tattered and ill-fitting. He had a small black mustache and wore a lot of black eye makeup. He wore his large shoes on the wrong feet. When he saw Data and Geordi, he smiled and tipped his hat. The officers did likewise.

"Where are you going, Charlie?" asked Data.

The tramp stopped, shrugged his shoulders, then put his finger between his teeth, thinking. He brightened. He started walking again and beckoned to the two officers to follow him. His pace quickened to a run. He ran lickety-split down the dirt path, then across a grassy area and stopped behind a tree. He motioned for the Starfleet officers to stay behind the tree, while he climbed it, soundlessly.

Just below the tree branch where the tramp sat, was a park bench. On it sat a pretty girl and her very large boyfriend, with his arm around her. Data and Geordi watched the tramp while he mimicked the girl and boy kissing and smooching and hugging, then he gave a big grin. Geordi laughed.

He took his bamboo cane, and prodded the boyfriend on the shoulder. He man looked back, to see nothing. When he turned, the tramp prodded the man again. This went on for several times. Eventually the man looked up to see the tramp sitting on the branch above him, looking up and whistling. The man shook his hand at the tramp and grabbed at the branch. He finally succeeded in pulling the tramp out of the tree. The tramp fell on top of him, then took off at high speed up a dirt road, the boyfriend still chasing him.

Data looked at Geordi, who was doubled over with laughter. "Now that was funny because…" Data was still analyzing.

"Data, because the tramp is a tease. He's naughty, a trickster…I think there is more to this scenario…"

Just as Geordi was talking, the tramp came back. He sat on the end of the bench where the girl was still sitting. He moved ever closer and closer to her. She backed away. Then he held up a "gift." It was a pocket watch that that the tramp had pick pocketed from her boyfriend and was now offering to the girl. If she wanted her boyfriend's watch back, she would have to kiss the tramp. The tramp smiled shyly at the girl. She kissed him and he gave her the watch…then magically, she kissed him again. Geordi could almost see the pink hearts fluttering above the pair's heads. Well, he _could_ see them…the Holodeck was generating visible pink hearts.

Soon the boyfriend came back. The tramp jumped behind the park bench and no one's eyes, but Data's, were fast enough to see that he had snatched the watch back from the girl without her knowledge. He moved away stealthily and picked up a big stone. The tramp heaved it at the boyfriend, then smiled a broad smile and covered his mouth with his hand, giggling. It knocked the man's hat off and he went off to retrieve it. The tramp ran back to the girl and stole a kiss. This time she slapped him, hard enough to knock him over. The boyfriend came back and grabbed the tramp by the back of his jacket and lifted him off the ground.

The tramp looked very sorry for the trouble he had caused. He seemed to apologies. The man put him down on his feet and smiled. He held out his hand to shake. The tramp smiled and made up with the man. As he shook his hand, the tramp left his lit cigarette butt in the man's hand. The man jumped around, yelling and shaking his hand about. Charlie came up behind the two and gave the man a big kick in the pants, then took off running.

Geordi again was doubled over with laughter. Data was getting more and more puzzled. "Humor is very intricate. The relationship between the tramp, the boyfriend and girlfriend…Geordi, why is that funny?"

Of course Data had not laughed at any of the scenarios that Geordi thought were funny. He analyzed the information, but there was no humorous feeling generated in the android's being.

Geordi didn't know where the little tramp had gone, so he persuaded Data to continue on and look for more humorous situations. They kept walking on the dirt road which led out of the park. Soon it was paved and the Starfleet officers were in a busy town square.

Suddenly the people who had been walking by started all looking up at a twenty story office building. They were all pointing up and shrieking. The Starfleet officers looked up. On the 17th floor, there was a man hanging out of a window just by his hands. He was kicking his feet around, looking frantic.

"What is he doing up there, Geordi?"

"Data, you're the one with the positronic brain…it's Harold Lloyd…look, he's holding on with only one hand…let's help him, Data…"

Geordi and Data took the elevator to the 17th floor and raced to the window where Harold was hanging. Alas, he wasn't there anymore, he was four floors below hanging through a ripped awning. The awning was ripping more. Geordi pushed a rope out the window and Harold grabbed onto it with one hand. He pulled himself up further, hand over hand. Soon he was within reach. Geordi held his hands out to Harold from the open window. Harold grabbed at his hand and caught it. But a stray wind gust came by just as Geordi was leaning a tiny bit too far out of the window. He and Harold went tumbling head over heels…into another awning.

"Thanks for trying to help!" said the young, dark-haired spectacled man, smiling. Just then the awning started to rip. Then another rope swung by, as if from nowhere. The two men grabbed onto it. They were being pulled up by Data. He pulled Harold in through the open window. He was helping Harold pull his feet in when the rope slipped and Geordi started falling seventeen stories to the ground. He braced himself for the worst. Even in the Holodeck, a fall like that could hurt. He closed his eyes, and shielded his head, ready for the crash to the hard cement sidewalk. Instead, he was caught by Data, who had gracefully leaped from the window seventeen stories above, calculating with his positronic brain exactly where and when he would have to meet the sidewalk to catch his friend before certain disaster.

As he caught Geordi, the people around cheered and clapped loudly.

"Was that humorous, Geordi?" Data looked hopeful, setting Geordi on his feet.

"Yes, Data. It was another great stunt and it was quite unexpected. Audiences would have known that Harold wouldn't be hurt, and would have laughed nervously through the suspense, but I didn't know you were going to catch me. I thought I was going to look like a flat pancake on the sidewalk…"

"Now, that has some elements of humor, if I am correct…" said Data.

"Thanks for catching me, Data. I'm glad you didn't wait to see how funny I would look squished flat." Geordi laughed at the thought. "Now that it's over, it is rather funny!"

"Last call to ride _The General_!" came an amplified voice from the nearby train station.

Geordi became animated. "_The General! _That's a famous train…and a famous movie…Buster Keaton plays Johnny Gray, the engineer of the historic train. Let's get on!" The two Starfleet officers boarded the 19th Century Earth transportation vehicle, passing the old locomotive, painted in black and red, trimmed in brass, with its typical diamond stack. The engineer was seated at the right side of the cab, a solemn looking young fellow with prominent eyes, dressed in a mid-19th century train engineer's uniform.

"Where do you suppose it is going, Geordi?"

"I don't know. Maybe the haunted mansion up on the hill. That may be very interesting."

The two Starfleet officers made themselves at home in a passenger coach. The coach had open windows. Soon the train was on its way. Starting off slowly, it soon picked up speed.

"Hear that steam hissing from the engine? Now that's what I call nostalgia. You can smell the wood burning, too."

"Nostalgic, perhaps, but I fail to see any humor in it…"

"Have patience, Data. Hey, let's go up and see Johnny, the engineer. I know that you know every detail of how a steam engine works, but you haven't seen one in action. For that matter, neither have I."

The two officers went through the cars till they reached the tender, which carried wood for the engine. They climbed up the back of the tender with the hand and foot holds, jumped up into it and were hopping down the cords of wood when the fireman sitting on the left side of the cab looked up from his work of shoving wood into the firebox and regulating water levels. He spied the newcomers.

"Johnny, look…spies!"

Johnny turned and grabbed his rifle. "Get down from there! Are you here to take my engine away? I love _The General_, you know. I will do anything to keep her from falling into the hands of spies!"

Geordi decided to have some fun. "Yes, I am a spy! Hand over _The General!"_

"What are you doing?" asked Data.

"You don't have a gun, Mister!" said Johnny.

"Yes, I do!" said Geordi with a flourish. "Data, have the Holodeck make me a phaser…."

"I am sorry, Geordi," said Data. "That would be cheating!"

"Hand over the train," said Geordi. "Johnny, I want to run _The General!"_

"Never!" said Johnny with a sneer.

Just then all heck broke loose. All of the passengers from the train came jumping into the tender and thence into the engine cab, which wasn't very large. They were all elbowing each other trying to find room to stand. Not only were the comics there that the Starfleet officers had met earlier, but many generalized holographic people too. They were standing in the tender, on the wood, in the tiny engine cab, hanging from the roof, etc.

"Owww!" said Geordi, as he was pushed into the iron door of the firebox. "That's hot!"

The poor engineer, Johnny, fell out the open window and was hanging on for dear life as the train rounded a curve. It then went over a high trestle. The trestle was no wider than the track itself. Johnny was hanging in space, as it were, and it would be a long way down if his hands should fail.

Data pushed himself over to the open doorway and grabbed Johnny by his waist, pulling him back into the cab. The fireman was nowhere to be found and Johnny speculated that he had fallen out just before the trestle. The other folks had fled, but some of them couldn't figure out how to get back into the passenger car and were running helter-skelter on top of the train. A few were hanging on the sides of the train, from the open windows.

"You know anything about running a train, Mister?" asked Johnny of Geordi.

"No, but I can learn fast…Data? You have the book-learning."

Data quickly rattled off the pages from his memory banks that referred to running a mid-19th century steam locomotive. He handed Geordi the wood and quickly checked the water levels and pressure gauges himself.

Johnny sat in the engineer's seat with his head out the window. "Them people are still hanging onto the windows…but at least we're over the trestle. Say…you two really aren't spies?"

"No, it was just a little joke, Johnny."

"Didn't seem too humorous to me," the engineer said with a solemn look.

Data spoke up. "So Geordi, your little joke was not funny. Where does that fit into humor?"

"I'm beginning to weary of the whole thing, Data. Maybe when we get off the train, we should get some sleep - well, I should get some sleep and you should oil your joints…"

"My joints have no need of oiling, Geordi."

"It was just a little joke… "

"I might add…a VERY little joke, Geordi."

"That sounded like humor, Data."

"Thank you, Geordi." The android looked pleased with himself. The poor engineer, Johnny, was looking at them as if they were from outer space. Well, they were, but he didn't know that.

The engineer began to slow down the train. Soon Data's finely tuned aural sense picked up the conductor calling out, "Next stop, Torquay!"

"What did he say, Data?"

"He said, _Next stop, Torquay! _Hmmm, that is somewhat odd," mused the android.

"Where is Torquay, Data?"

"It is in Devon, Geordi, Devon, England. A part of the British Isles on Earth. Located on the western edge of the European continent, the British Isles consist of two islands…"

"Data!" Geordi interrupted. "I _know _where England is…what I want to know is how did we get there?"

"I'd like to know that too," spoke up the engineer, looking more serious than ever.

"Geordi, you have forgotten we are in the Holodeck. Space and time are not completely relevant in the Holodeck."

"So, did you program it to go to England?"

"No, I did not." Data looked a bit puzzled. "But, no matter, I did write the program for the characters to create their own humorous scenarios."

"The last few scenarios haven't been as funny as the first ones. What's happening to the program?"

"I am sure the hilarity will resume very soon, Geordi."

"What happened to our resolution to get back on the ship when we left the train?"

"Do you still think it necessary?"

"Data, I'm tired. Let's go."

Data pushed a button on the remote and the train and the English countryside melted away to leave the bare walls of the holodeck. Geordi didn't want to leave, really, he was having a good time, but his job came first and he needed sleep to be at his best. Geordi went to his cabin and fell asleep. Data turned on the computer console in his cabin to absorb more information about the era they had just exited. He plugged himself in to the computer and began to download.

The following shift, the Enterprise had still not reached the Theta Andromeda system and Geordi felt refreshed. He wanted to get back to the Holodeck scenario again to see how it would play out. Data's idea of the computer writing its own scenarios for each character was extremely fascinating. He would be interested to see if this was a viable concept.

Data and Geordi entered the holodeck again, the 4-D holograms appeared, and the two officers found themselves aboard _The General_ waiting to alight at the station in Torquay.

Basil Fawlty was standing as usual behind the reception desk in the lobby of Fawlty Towers, a small cozy hotel in Torquay, Devon, England. The small establishment overlooked the sea and was a perfect place for a quiet holiday.

Basil, a tall man with dark brown hair and mustache, was reading the reservation book. "Sybil, my little mockingbird, why haven't we had any guests today? It's nearly dinner time and nary a guest! The reservation book is null and void!" His sarcastic tone wasn't lost on his wife. Sybil Fawlty, a small woman who habitually wore very high heels and put her blonde hair up in a high beehive hairdo to add height, was calm and had the presence of mind to almost always stand up to her sourpuss husband.

"Basil, I hear the train coming. There may be last minute guests. Just relax. And Basil?"

"What is it, honey cakes?" Basil looked up at her and smiled sourly.

"The hotel sign is twisted again. I think is says _Flat Worst…_and the rest of the letters are missing. When are you going to get someone to permanently fix the sign?" The hotel name, _Fawlty Towers_ consisted of separate letters and some of the local boys delighted in climbing up and rearranging the letters to make bizarre words, hiding the extra letters.

"Hmmm, Flat Worst, Flat Worst, what does that remind me of?" said Basil under his offhandedly.

"By the way, Basil, _Honey Cakes_ is a very nice nickname…I certainly don't mind you calling me that…"

"Well, that's nice, Sybil," said Basil. "Yes, honey cakes attract the ants and flies, don't they?" said Basil under his breath.

"What was that, Basil?" asked Sybil, knowing full well what he had said.

He looked up and smiled. "Honey cakes attract the handsome boys, wouldn't you say, Sybil?" She shook her head and started walking upstairs when a small excited man rushed in the door.

"Mrs Fawlty, Mr Fawlty, the train, she comin….but I never seen…." he had a thick Spanish accent and suddenly ran out of English words to express himself.

"What is it, Manuel?"

He looked at her, still confused. "¿Que?" was all he could say.

Polly, the maid and jill-of-all-trades, ran over to the door, then ran back to the Fawltys. "Manuel is correct…the train is out there…but it's the oddest train I've ever seen…it looks like it belongs in mid-19th Century America. It's not a British train at all!"

The Fawlty's, Manuel and Polly all stepped outside to watch the odd spectacle of the vintage train from overseas. How it had gotten here was a mystery. And another mystery was that, up until yesterday, there had been no train tracks near the hotel.

The hotel staff's musing came to an end as they saw a crowd of people dressed in early 20th century clothing alighting from the strange vehicle and coming toward the entrance doorway. The crowd was led by a small man with longish dark hair in a engineer's hat, wide-sleeved shirt and kerchief at his neck. This man was dressed in clothes from an even earlier time. He brought the crowd inside, the Fawltys scurrying to get behind the reception desk before the strange looking crowd knocked them over.

The engineer stopped at the desk and removed his hat. "We've come from the States to visit…I hope you have room for us here…we all decided this was the place to stay when we visit England."

For once, Basil wasn't sure what to say. It appeared that there would definitely not be enough rooms for the crowd.

Sybil spoke up. "Why don't you sign the register and we shall find accommodation for all of you." By this time the guests were getting somewhat out of hand. Tomasso and Fiorello were trying to get Basil to sign over the hotel to them. The tramp was making eyes at Polly. Harold had somehow gotten himself stuck on the chandelier and his legs swung perilous close to the heads of some of the guests. Stan and Ollie had entered the kitchen and were showing the cook a special treat they had cooked up for the guests at their café. Moe, Larry and Curley were arguing and poking each other in the eyes. The only one with any decorum was Johnny Gray, the engineer, who stood solemnly watching the strangeness.

Data and Geordi stood off to the side, in the corner. "This is getting weird, Data…I think your program has gone a bit bonkers…although it has a certain slapstick charm about it…"

"No, the holodeck computer is just following my directions to have the characters write their own humor."

"I don't know, Data…"

Driftwood came over to talk things over with Basil. "So what kind of place is this?" he asked, wiggling his cigar and his eyebrows. "I've heard it said that this place is a mess or this mess is a place, so what is it? I think you have too many people for one hotel…or one hotel too many. These people will never settle down…oh, if only Mrs. Claypool were here, _I _could settle down…we're about to wed, you know, when she's ready…she'll be ready when she has the money, and the money is wherever she is…"

Driftwood went on and on, talking, but not really saying anything, and clearly irritating Basil. He glared at the man. "Sir, you have the strangest looking mustache I have ever seen!"

"And you _are_ the strangest mustache I have ever seen!" Driftwood rolled his eyes as if he had said some words of wisdom.

Sybil was getting irritated, too. Finally she climbed on top of the desk and clapped her hands loudly. "May I have your attention, please?" The noise stopped and the guests looked at her. Harold jumped down from the chandelier.

"I don't believe that we have enough rooms for all of you, but if some of you could room together, I think things will work out nicely." She put Fiorello, Tomasso and Driftwood in one room, Moe, Larry and Curly in another. Ollie and Stan took another room. Harold stayed with Johnny, the engineer. Data and Geordi took a room. No one saw the Little Tramp walk oddly, but sadly and quietly out the door and go to sleep in a flower bed.

Up in their room, Geordi said to Data, "How many of us are there, Data?"

"One human, one android and eleven comic holograms. Then of course, if you wish to count the hotel holograms, that would give us four more holograms, unless the holodeck is planning to create more."

"One of the holographic comics is missing, Data…let's go downstairs."

The two StarFleet officers went outside and around to the back of the hotel. There were lovely flower beds next to the hotel, but it was dark.

"May I ask what you are looking for, Geordi?" asked Data.

"Charlie's missing….no, wait, he's right there." Geordi pointed to the little tramp curled up in a fetal position laying in the flower bed, sleeping.

"Why did he come out here to sleep?"

"I don't know, Data." Geordi woke the little tramp. "Why did you come out here to sleep?" The tramp stood up and systematically pulled out each of his pockets to show Data and Geordi that his pockets were empty and he had no money to stay in the hotel.

Geordi laughed and pulled out his own pockets inside out to show the tramp he had no money either. "Charlie, would you like to stay with us?"

The tramp asked wordlessly, _me?_ putting the palm of his hand on his chest, indicating himself. When Geordi nodded, he smiled and tipped his hat. He brushed himself off with a clothes brush. He followed the Starfleet officers to their room. Data took off his tailcoat and hung it in the closet. The tramp tiptoed up behind him and pulled his suspenders waaaay out and let them go with a mighty snap. He giggled silently and covered his mouth with his fingers.

"If I were not an android, that would hurt a lot, Charlie," said Data, turning. The tramp gave him a sad look, then poked him with his bamboo cane when he turned back to the closet. Data turned and the tramp was sitting in a chair across the room looking innocent.

"Did you do that, Geordi?" Geordi of course, having observed the scenario, was laughing heartily.

Suddenly the phone rang. Geordi answered it. "It's Mrs. Fawlty. She has asked us all to come down to the lobby.

Everyone from the train was standing in the lobby. Sybil was standing on top of the desk again. She was thankful that Basil was hiding out in the back room. She didn't need him riling up the guests.

"I've called you here because we have a very strange problem. No one here has any money, checks or credit cards; no way to pay for your rooms. While I would be quite happy to let you all stay a bit without paying, you realize there is overhead, in other words, we have to wash the bedclothes, clean the rooms, replenish paper products and then we come to the food. We can't afford to let you stay without paying."

"Now my husband wishes to put you on the train and send you back where you came from. However, that would be most unlike the hospitality we are used to offering to our guests. Polly has suggested that perhaps, we might ask our guests if they would be willing to help with some work about the hotel. Is everyone amenable?"

Fiorello raised his hand and Sybil nodded to him. "How much-a does-a the job pay?" Sybil ignored him.

Tomasso raised his hand and Sybil nodded again. He grinned and gave two sharp squeezes to his loud taxi horn, making some of the others jump in surprise. Sybil ignored him too.

"Are we all listening?" asked Sybil. "Here are the work assignments. Stan and Ollie, since you run a café in the States, would you be willing to help Cook out in the kitchen, preparing and serving the food to the other guests?" Ollie flipped his tie as he said, "We would be delighted!" He elbowed Stanley who was smiling and scratching the top of his head, where his hair was mostly standing on end. "Delighted!" said Stan.

She turned to Moe, Larry and Curley. "I understand you three are in the plumbing business."

"No, we're in the travel business," said Larry. Moe hit him on the head with a metal pipe. The pipe made a hollow clanging sound when it hit Larry's head. "Ouch!" yelled Larry.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Moe. "You have a hole in the pipes, we'll plug it for you!"

"We'll even make new ones if you want," said Curley. Moe stepped on his toes hard. "Owww! What was that for?"

"If you don't know, you deserve this!" Moe stepped on Curley's other foot.

"Owww! Whoo-whoo-whoo!" yelled Curley.

"Please, if I could have a little quiet?" asked Sybil. "Thank you. Now we need someone to help put the sign on correctly out in front, and also to do some window washing. Harold, I believe you enjoy high places….is that correct?"

"Enjoy might not be the correct word…but I would be glad to help you!" He tipped his straw boater.

"Next, we need the large parlor painted. Could I prevail upon Tomasso and Charlie to do that for us?" Tomasso beeped his horn twice and the tramp tipped his hat and nodded.

"Mr. Driftwood, would you be so kind as to help my husband work on the finances and the books…they are in quite a bad state…" Driftwood opened his mouth to say something and Sybil knew she had to stop him before he started talking. "Thank you, Mr. Driftwood for volunteering."

"Hey, I'm-a the one who's-a good with da money. I shoulda gotta da job." spoke up Fiorello.

"I know you're good at negotiating, Fiorello…you can procure our food at the market and any other purchases we need to make."

"Okay…I save-a you da money…"

"I know you will," said Sybil.

"Then we have our two gentlemen, Data and Geordi is it?" They nodded. "Could I ask you to do the laundry?" They nodded again.

"And last, but not least, we come to our train engineer. I know you can run that train, Johnny, but can you fix our heat? The hotel's heating has not been right recently…"

"I can fix anything, Ma'am. I ain't found the thing that I can't fix," said Johnny, solemnly, in his very Mid-Western American accent.

Everyone seemed pleased with their assignments except Data. "Why did we get the laundry, Geordi? It seems that everyone's job rather fits them…why does laundry fit us?"

"You wrote the program, Data…you should know…but there is something odd, Data…"

"What is that, Geordi?"

"What is Fawlty Towers, a British television show from the 1970's, doing in your program about early movie comedy? I thought you said the scenarios wouldn't go past the mid-1930's. And another thing, why is the Johnny Gray character from the mid 19th Century included?"

"The character Johnny Gray is from a movie made in the silent years, Geordi…it is most appropriate for him to be in the scenario."

"Well, it seems strange. But I won't argue. What do you say about Fawlty Towers?"

"That does seem rather odd, Geordi. Perhaps I gave the holodeck a bit too much leeway…"

"Let's get started on the laundry, Data." The Starfleet officers lugged all of the laundry which Polly had stripped from the beds and brought the carts to the basement.

Geordi sat down and looked at the huge piles in dismay. "You wouldn't think holograms could make so much dirty laundry, Data. Can't you just do something on the remote control and reset it to "clean and folded"?

"Geordi, that would be cheating…"

"Data, who cares about cheating? It's our scenario and we came here for shore leave. And if I come back all tired and worn out, and I might add, irritable, that will defeat the whole purpose of this program."

"Well stated, Geordi. And logical." Data pulled out the remote and programmed some information into the holodeck. The laundry appeared in neat stacks on the tables, clean and folded. Just then they heard Mrs. Fawlty's high heels coming down the stairs. She entered the laundry room and stopped, surprised.

"Well, you are two very efficient chaps! I would like to ask a favor…Basil and I will be leaving the hotel for the day and I have left Polly and Manuel in charge. However, with all the guests working…well, I would like to ask you to help supervise and make sure everything goes well. Would you do that?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Fawlty," said Geordi, secretly wondering if it was a good idea. Most of those comics were known to cause chaos and make incredible messes in their movies…would this be any different?

"Let's go, Data," said Geordi. The two pushed the carts of clean linens into the elevator and found Polly at the reception desk. She looked a bit flustered.

"What's the matter, Polly?"asked Geordi.

"Mr. and Mrs. Fawlty have just left and I've gotten a call that a Duke and Duchess are coming to stay here on holiday…with all the work being done here, the place is a mess!"

"Can't you tell them the hotel is closed for a few days for refurbishing?"

"No, I can't do that…"

Just then Manuel ran in from outside. He was frantic as usual. "Mr Fawlty, Mr Fawlty…." He looked around. "Where Mr Fawlty?"

"The Fawltys are away for the day, Manuel, don't you remember?"

"Oh, si, I remember…but Polly, Mr Harold, he lost the ladder, he hang from the window…"

"Manuel! Pick up the ladder for him…hurry!"

"But Polly, water comin out the window…"

Polly ran out the door to see Harold hanging onto a window shade through an open window on the second floor. The ladder was laying on the ground and he was kicking his legs. But the oddest thing of all was the water gushing through the open window.

Data and Geordi pushed the ladder up to the window and Harold climbed down.

"Where is that water coming from, Harold?" asked Polly.

"I don't know, Ma'am. I was washing the window when it just started gushing out and knocked me off the ladder."

Polly, Manuel and the two Starfleet officers ran inside the hotel and up to the second floor. There was a huge hole in the wall of one of the guest rooms and the water was indeed gushing out of a water pipe with great force and coming out the window.

Just then the three small plumbers rushed in the room. "Didn't I tell you to patch that hole before you turned on the water, knuckleheads?" yelled Moe to the other two plumbers. The two turned a large wheel and the water subsided. They reached in their pockets and pulled out several rolls of duct tape.

"No, no, that's not the way to do it…don't you two know anything?" yelled Moe. He slapped Larry and Curly, banged their heads together, shoved them aside and grabbed the pillows from the bed. He pulled off the pillowcases and shoved them into the hole. "_Now_ you use the duct tape!" He stood back and the other two applied the tape.

Polly ran from the room, looking about to cry. Data paused outside the room and said thoughtfully to Geordi. "Now was that funny?"

Geordi was laughing. "It was pretty good, Data."

"So these three men, hitting and yelling at each other, then doing very stupid things…this is humor?"

"It's a type of humor, Data…we talked about slapstick before…"

Data still looked as if it were a mystery. "Perhaps we should find out what the other comics are doing."

They entered the kitchen to see how Ollie and Stan were coming along with the food. Ollie was supervising and telling Stan how to make the pancake batter, down to the last detail.

"What happened to Cook, Ollie?" asked Geordi.

"I don't know…he seemed irritated and just left…why his coat and hat are gone, too!"

"What do I do now, Ollie?" asked Stanley.

"Why the eggs and flour go right in here, in this bowl on the counter." Ollie was still smiling and looking at Geordi. He pointed in the direction of two bowls on the counter.

"Which one?" asked Stanley.

"This one of course," said Ollie pointing to one of the bowls, which happened to be his own hat turned upside-down on the counter.

"Are you sure?" asked Stanley.

"Of course, I'm sure. Stanley!"

"Ollie," said Stanley, starting to sob.

"What is it, Stanley?" said Ollie, impatiently.

"I can't do that…"

"Why, can't you do that, Stanley?"

Stanley was crying so hard now he couldn't talk.

"Then let me help you!" said Ollie in exasperation. He took the ingredients and put them carefully into the "bowl", mixing thoroughly with a spoon. "Now you add the milk, Stanley."

Stanley was still looking unhappy and moaning a bit.

"Do I have to do _everything_?" asked Ollie. "Here give me that milk!" He took the bottle of milk from Stan and poured it into his hat, again mixing carefully.

Then Ollie looked at Stanley. "Stanley, where did you put my hat?" He looked around the large kitchen. He turned to Stan again. "Do you know where my hat is?"

Stanley nodded _yes_.

"Well don't just stand there! Put it on my head!"

Stan resumed his sobbing, but obediently picked up the hat and put it on Ollie's head. Of course, the pancake batter dripped all over his face and clothes. Ollie simply stood there and drummed his fingers on the table, with a look of resignation on his face.

Geordi was breaking up again. He was almost doubled over with laughter. "That was so good…" he choked.

Data looked thoughtful. So Geordi, is there a correlation…the bigger the mess, the bigger the laughs?"

"You could say that," said Geordi, barely able to spit the words out over his laughter. "Let's check on the others.

Driftwood was at the reception desk. He had the financial books open on the counter and moved from one to another, making changes on the pages, a number here and a number there, crossing out whole lines and ripping out whole pages.

"What are you doing, Mr. Driftwood?" asked Geordi.

"They asked me to look at the books. I'm looking and I don't like what I see. So I am changing it so I will see what I like. Speaking of like, where is Mrs. Claypool? Well, that's more like love. I'd marry her if I loved her, luckily I do. Or maybe I don't. I know I don't like these numbers…."

He shouted as Fiorello walked in the front door. "Fiorello! Help me with these books!" The two took the financial books into the large guest parlor and threw them in to the fireplace. Geordi and Data followed in puzzlement.

"Tomasso," yelled Fiorello. "Get-a over here and make-a da fire." Tomasso dropped his roll of wallpaper and pulled a lighted firecracker out of his trench coat pocket. He looked at it with glee and threw it into the fireplace with the books. Then he took two more of the same from two other pockets and did an odd little dance with them, juggling them under his knees and catching them again. Finally he threw them in the fireplace too. He stuck his fingers in his ears and waited….and waited….and waited. With everyone watching, the three firecrackers' lit fuses all went out at the same time.

Tomasso took his fingers out of his ears and inched closer to the fireplace. The firecrackers were just laying there, their fuses dark. He came closer. Suddenly there was a huge boom and black smoke came out of the fireplace, knocking Tomasso over, so he somersaulted twice backwards, ending up in a standing position, and covered in black soot. Geordi and Data, although standing over in the corner near the doorway, still were caught in the rain of black soot.

Tomasso was supposed to be helping Charlie the Tramp with the wallpapering. When he had come to help with the fireplace, he had dropped the huge sheet of wallpaper he had been holding up. Data and Geordi suddenly missed Charlie. Where was he? In the corner, there was suddenly a moving mass of wallpaper that had fallen off the wall. The tramp crawled out from under it, covered in wallpaper paste. He wiped himself off and started in papering again with Tomasso. Because there was so much soot in the room, the wallpaper became streaked with soot and black hand prints. Geordi was laughing. The Starfleet officers walked out of the room into the lobby again.

Suddenly a very tall, middle-aged woman with a large hat and long dress entered the lobby and walked over to the reception desk.

"I demand to see Mr. Driftwood!" she stated in no uncertain terms.

Because there was no one in attendance at the moment behind the desk, Geordi took it upon himself to take over. "Yes, Ma'am. Mr. Driftwood was just here…I'm sure he'll be back shortly…."

"I must see him. He has all my financial records and …" Driftwood strode into the lobby chewing on his ever-present cigar and raising his eyebrows up and down. "Mr Driftwood! I demand that you finish with my financial records at once!"

Shorter than Mrs. Claypool, Driftwood sidled up to her. He took her in his arms and wagged his eyebrows. "Mrs. Claypool, your financial records are finished!"

She brightened. "Oh that's wonderful!"

"And not only are your records finished, when the IRS sees them, you'll be finished too!"

Not exactly understanding what he was talking about, Mrs. Claypool looked confused, but said, "Why thank you, Mr Driftwood, you're so kind."

"I know I'm a kind of a so-and-so, but what do you really think of me?" He pulled her to an almost horizontal position and kissed her. She tittered and giggled.

Data said, "Mrs. Claypool is funny because…Geordi, I am not sure why she is funny….."

"Data, she's funny because she just isn't getting Driftwood's jokes. He is going on and on and she is too dense to figure out what he really means…..something like you, Data, no harm intended…."

"I will have to analyze the information and run it through the computer before I can come to any conclusions, Geordi."

"Before she left, Mrs. Fawlty had asked Johnny Gray to fix the heat. Maybe we should find out how he is doing, Data."

The two officers descended into the basement furnace room. Johnny had the whole furnace taken apart and was making a very strange contraption out of it.

"Johnny, what are you doing?"

"This thing ain't workin' right so I'm makin' a steam boiler so the hotel will get some real heat!" Geordi, being an engineer himself, was interested in the workings of the new boiler and Data analyzed it all in one glance.

"Geordi, I like this one. He is very logical. He really knows his craft."

"Yes, Data, but odd. He's not doing anything funny…."

Ascending the staircase, Data and Geordi heard some sobbing. Polly was standing behind the reception desk, looking at the devastation all around her and sobbing. Manuel was trying to comfort her by telling her it wasn't too bad.

"But Manuel, we have important guests coming! Look at this mess! We have wallpaper that is pasted on the walls crookedly. There is wallpaper paste and black soot all over the parlor and the carpet. In the lobby, we have a flood from the upstairs pipes breaking. The kitchen is a huge mess of food all over everything. The windows aren't fixed and the furnace is all apart. The financial books are destroyed! The only thing that has been done is the laundry and now that's full of soot and water, too! How will we clean up in time for our guests?

"Data!" whispered Geordi…we have to do something! I know it's just a holodeck program, but, we have to help them out!"

"But it would ruin the humor of the situation, wouldn't it Geordi?"

"Data, somehow your program has turned humor into … something else…the computer has gone too far!"

"I have a theory…."

"Data, not again!"

"Geordi, if we were watching this on the screen, it would be hilarious, would it not? Now if I understand this correctly, everything has gone wrong, so we, as the viewers should be rolling on the floor, laughing!"

"Data, being in this scenario makes it seem more real, therefore, this part is making me as depressed as the earlier scenes were making me happy. I don't want to see Polly cry…perhaps the computer has decided to add an element of drama. Hmmm…"

"Geordi, I specifically did not program any drama…."

"Maybe you should use your remote and make the devastation all go away, Data…."

Just then a distinguished looking woman and man entered the lobby. Geordi was standing near the door to the large parlor with the sooty wallpaper. He pulled the pocket doors closed, surreptitiously. Then he went over to the desk, where Polly was trying to wipe her tears without being too obvious about it.

"Yes, may I help you?" she asked of the distinguished looking couple, in her cheeriest tone.

The man spoke up. They were both middle-aged and solemn and did not appear to have a shred of a sense of humor. "We are the Duke and Duchess of….." his voice trailed off as he surveyed one of the ceiling tiles which had just fallen off and crashed to the floor, being heavy with water. He looked at the water logged carpet.

"What's the meaning of this?" asked the Duke crossly. "We had reservations at this hotel and were told that it was the best and most picturesque in this part of the country. I can see that we have been ill-informed."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Polly. "But we have experienced a minor plumbing problem. It is being fixed."

"Yes, I can hear it being worked on," said the Duke, dryly. There were clangs and metallic bangs to be heard in the distance.

"I trust we shall not be subjected to that type of noise all night?"

"Oh no," said Polly. "We shall have it fixed by that time, won't we?" She glanced at the Starfleet officers. Geordi gave her a thumbs up and nodded. "Just a moment, please. Conference."

Polly smiled worriedly at the Duke and Duchess and whispered to Geordi and Data. "What are we going to do? We don't have a room for them…"

"Stall them, Polly," said Geordi. "Offer them a free lunch in the dining room. Let me see how Stan and Ollie are coming along."

Data and Geordi entered the kitchen which was a huge mess. Flour was spilled all over, and on the two cooks too. "Ollie, we have to have a nice meal for the Duke and Duchess who just came in. Can you two prepare something?"

Ollie smiled engagingly, while twiddling his tie and getting more flour on it. "Why certainly. Stanley would be happy to whip something up. Wouldn't you, Stanley?" He turned to where his partner was looking at a cookbook. He was scratching his standing-on-end hair and appeared to be rather puzzled.

"Stanley, I asked you a question."

"What is it Ollie?"

"Wouldn't you be delighted to whip up a nice meal for some important guests?"

"Yes, Ollie. But I can't read the cookbook."

"Why not, Stanley?" Ollie drummed his fingers on the counter and rolling his eyes, shook his head at his partner's incompetence.

"Ollie, it's in another language…"

"What?"

"Come and see, Ollie…"

Ollie took one look, gave Stanley a long look of exasperation and turned the cookbook around so it was not upside down any more.

"Oh," said Stanley. "Thank you, Ollie."

Ollie turned to Data and Geordi. "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

"Yes," said Data, "Apparently your partner is not very bright. You would think that he would be able to tell that the book was upside down…." Geordi pulled on his arm.

"Pssst, Data…you're ruining a good joke!" he whispered.

"When you have a meal for them, let us know…" said Geordi aloud.

"We are waiting for Mr. Fiorello to return from the market. He promised to bring us something special to prepare…" said Ollie.

Just then, as promised, Fiorello came in the door carrying four bags of groceries. Not watching where he was going, he slipped on the flour covered kitchen floor and knocked Geordi over. "Hey, what's-a the idea?" He arose, completely white from the flour. All of the food scattered and rolled on the floor, some of it under the tables and appliances.

Geordi giggled, but then said to Data, "Go and take their order. You are the only one who isn't all full of flour…" Data nodded and picked up an order pad and pen.

Data approached the couple. "May I take your order?" he asked.

The Duchess approved of his clothes. "I say, period clothes for the waiters. How quaint!" Then she took a good look at Data's face and eyes. She motioned for her husband to look closer too.

"I say, are you feeling all right, old chap?" asked the Duke. "Your color is a bit jaundiced…"

"My father, Dr. Noonien Soong, purposely made me this color. However, those that came after me were made considerably more realistic…Perhaps to a human eye, it would look jaundiced as the word refers to a liver disease which turns the skin yellow. However, if you will notice, the sclera of my eyes are white…"

"Whatever is he talking about, Darling?" whispered the Duchess to her husband.

Data started again, "May I take your order?" The Duke and Duchess this time gave him their order and Data brought it back to the kitchen. Geordi was gone, so he helped Stan and Ollie prepare the order.

In the mean time, Geordi had gone out to confer with Polly. "We don't have rooms for them, and another problem is Mrs Claypool. She wants to stay here and she refuses to stay in a room with anyone else…."

"Polly, give the Duke and Duchess our room…and since the Fawlty's aren't here, give Mrs. Claypool their suite."

"Where are you and Data and Charlie going to stay?"

"Charlie's a tramp…he sleeps outside sometimes…maybe we'll join him…"

"Oh, that's not what our hotel is about…not very hospitable…"

"Can you think of anything better?"

Just then, Johnny was coming up from the basement, carrying a huge furnace pipe, somewhat bigger than he was. At the same time, the Duchess was coming over to the desk. Johnny apparently couldn't see the Duchess coming, because of the huge pipe and he walked right into her, knocking her down. She screamed. When he saw what he had done, he bent down, still holding the pipe and tried to help her up, apologizing profusely. She started hitting him with her handbag, making a loud noise on the pipe.

Her husband came running, as did Tomasso and Charlie, both holding long-handled brushes full of wet paste. Turning around to see what was going on, Tomasso hit the Duke in the face with his brush and Charlie, also turning, hit the Duchess, and knocked her down again.

Before the Duke and Duchess had time to react, water started pouring from the ceiling. Moe, Larry and Curly fell through and dropped to the floor as the water continued to pour. Harold was hanging through the hole, holding on for dear life. Geordi and Fiorello appeared from the kitchen covered in flour and food. Ollie and Stan slipped again on the flour, skidding into Geordi and Fiorello and pushing them down into the melee.

Mrs. Claypool and Otis B. Driftwood came into the lobby from outside. Mrs. Claypool looked alarmed and when her shoes became stuck in the still wet wallpaper glue now also on the carpet, she let out a scream. Driftwood jumped to the top of the reception desk and yelled for silence.

He chomped on his cigar. "Now, you all know that we came here for peace and quiet. Or was that peaches and cumquats." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and rolled his eyes. "Never mind, it's all the same. I suppose you'll all be suing this place. Well as your lawyer…"he looked at Fiorello…"Was that lawyer or liar?"

"It don't matter…same-a thing…" said Fiorello.

"So, as your liar, I'd like to disavow any knowledge of what happened here. You're all on your own…unless you happen to own this dump, in which case, you're still on your own…"

The crowd started getting loud and they pulled Driftwood off the reception desk.

Just then a hush came over the crowd. Sybil and Basil Fawlty were standing in the entrance to the lobby. Basil didn't say a word. There wasn't much he could think of to say. Sybil's eyes flashed. Basil had never seen her quite this angry. It was rather exciting.

She jumped effortlessly to the reception desk. She said, "I want to know who is responsible and I want to know NOW!" Her face was becoming red. Basil was liking this more and more. She was getting a little feisty. He smiled…Honey Cakes she was, indeed…"

Just then Moe and Larry ran down the steps. "Look," said Moe, "we fixed the leak!" He pointed to the ceiling. Everyone looked up. Indeed, the leak was no longer gushing, although it had already done its worst to the carpet and the wet people standing on it.

"Perhaps I shouldn't ask this, but how did you fix it, Mr. Howard?" asked Sybil.

"We shoved Curley's head in the hole…then we duct-taped around it. The tape won't even pull out his hair, seeing as he hasn't got any…"

"I am quite sorry that I asked…" said Sybil.

Suddenly the stream of water started up again, with Curley flying out of the ceiling hole ahead of it, duct tape stuck to his head.

Geordi was laughing at the sight, when suddenly Data took charge. He hopped up to the top of the reception desk with Sybil.

"I believe I am responsible for most of this devastation, ladies and gentlemen. I should like to show you a most fascinating ….you would probably call it a _magic trick_. Watch closely."

Data put his hand in his pocket with the remote control. He pushed buttons and his clothes slowly became a magician's black top hat and tails. The crowd gasped. He pushed more buttons and waved his hand slowly around the room. The flood stopped, the ceiling closed and everyone's clothes were back to normal. The carpet wasn't wet anymore. He waved his hands and the pocket doors to the parlor opened, revealing a beautifully wall-papered room. The kitchen door swung open to a sparkling kitchen that would pass the closest inspection. The laundry was once again clean, folded and stacked, ready to be brought up to the rooms.

"Now, I think it's time for all of us to go home." Data pressed more buttons and the scenario disappeared.

"Data, I think you cheated, at least according to your own rules…"

"Not so, Geordi. I merely called up the persona of someone you would call a _magician_, really a slight-of-hand artist, knowing how it …for want of a better word… _wows _the crowds. My inner clock is also telling me that it is the time to be approaching the planet of the Naibens. You have time for a nap of precisely 4.36524 hours. I would advise you to take advantage of it."

Geordi went back to his quarters and fell asleep within a short time. The scenario was like living in a weird slap-stick world and it was very exhausting, not relaxing like it should be.

Jean Luc-Picard and his senior officers were dressed in their formal uniforms. They beamed down to the planet to take part in the peace talks between the two warring factions of the Naibens.

The officers were met in front of a large palace surrounded by pinkish colored grass. Flowers in weird colors grew in well-kept gardens which displayed fountains with odd figurines of animals spurting water from their mouths and paws.

The Naibens were about three feet tall. The two factions looked very similar, except for the clothes they wore and the color of their hair. The one faction was dressed in green shirts and trousers, the women in long flowing green dresses with huge sleeves. All of these had red hair, coifed in upswept fashion. Many of the men wore beards. Most appeared to have green or greenish-blue eyes.

The other Naiben faction wore strictly white, with black and silver borders. The women wore long dresses, arranged rather like the Roman togas of Earth or Indian saris. The men wore trousers and very long jackets, the back of which almost trailed on the ground. Their hair was very long, black and upswept in both sexes, coming to a point on the top which flipped forward. The men again, mostly wore beards, some decorated with beads on the ends. This faction of Naibens had dark blue, gray or black eyes.

To the humans from the Enterprise, they rather looked like children playing dress up…or perhaps denizens of Oz. However, the Starfleet officers knew that aliens, no matter what they looked like were always to be taken seriously and all assumptions were to be set aside.

Both factions of Naibens were very solemn and four people stepped forward to greet the visitors, a man and woman from each faction. Both of the men started to speak, then stopped. Their voices were very high, not quite like children, but…as Geordi was thinking, they sounded like Munchkins, or perhaps leprechauns. He put the thought out of his mind immediately, or tried to.

Both the men started to speak again at the same time. They stopped, then glared at each other. Apparently protocol was important to these people and both wanted to have the first word.

Jean-Luc intervened. "I am Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Starship Enterprise…at your request, Starfleet has sent us to negotiate peace between your two factions. I understand that protocol is important to both of your peoples and we do not wish to undermine either of you. However, someone will have to speak first, and perhaps the other will be gracious enough to let him do so."

Both Naibens bowed to each other and indicated he wanted the other to speak. Another impasse. Jean-Luc was becoming visibly irritated, something that rarely happened, especially in front of aliens. "Perhaps we should enter and start the negotiations…"

The Naibens solemnly led the procession of their people followed by the Starfleet officers. The doorways were only about five feet high, so the officers had to bend down to enter. They were led through several long corridors to a room with a very long table and chairs on either side of it. At the head of the table, two chairs were placed side by side. One side of the room had flowing curtains of green with orange streamers; the other side had white curtains with black and silver streamers. The Naibens and Starfleet officers took their places. Jean-Luc sat on the green side and indicated that second-in-command Will Riker take the other side.

The table legs were short and the chairs even shorter and very small. The Starfleet officers, most of whom were quite tall, were rather uncomfortable.

"Shall we get started, then?" asked Jean-Luc. Both of the Naibens looked at each other, neither willing to start the conversation. "All right, I shall speak to you (indicating the man in green beside him) and Will can speak to you (indicating the other Naiben in white). We shall then discuss out loud your concerns and start the negotiations. Is that acceptable to everyone?" Both the Naibens nodded.

From what the "green" Naiben, named Gratzio, said to Jean-Luc, all their problems stemmed from protocol. Each wanted his faction to be the first, the best and the top of the line. Neither was willing to bend to the other's wishes. Therefore, an impasse. The "white" Naiben, named Nehjio, confirmed the problem to Will, in his own words. After listening to the complaints for several hours, Jean-Luc and Will decided they had the story down pretty well. All the other Naibens and the Starfleet officers were fidgeting, not being able to hear the whispered comments anyway.

Jean-Luc called an end to the negotiations for the day. "We shall retire to the Enterprise and talk about your concerns. We shall speak again tomorrow and present the conclusions we have come to. If there is need for more negotiations, we shall continue listening to your two sides. Is this amenable to everyone?" Gratzio and Nehjio nodded in unison. The other Naibens broke into clapping and cheering, the first positive emotion that the Enterprise crew had seen from them.

"You are all welcome to board the Enterprise for a tour and also to visit our dining areas where you can sample some of the best food in this quadrant. The two Naibens nodded and solemnly led their respective groups and the Starfleet officers outside of the palace. Jean-Luc gave the order to energize and the whole group was beamed aboard the ship.

For the next few days, the negotiations took place on the Enterprise, to the agreement of the two Naibens and the relief of the crew who hadn't looked forward to sitting in the tiny chairs for hours on end again. Since neither side would give in and neither would talk to the other, Jean-Luc was beginning to think that getting these people together would be a gargantuan job. Even as they spoke, range wars were going on at various places on the planet and these would not be stopped until the Naiben factions came to an accord.

Geordi was in his cabin when he heard a knock. "Come in," he said. The soft swish of the door revealed Data who entered Geordi's quarters.

"Geordi, there is a last part of my scenario that I have just programmed. Would you like to see it?"

"Sure, Data. Beats sitting here while the Munchkins negotiate…"

"What?"

"Sorry, Data. That was rude of me to refer to the Naibens as Munchkins."

"I know that you are referring to a small type of humanoid creature found in the _Wizard of Oz _children's books written by the human L. Frank Baum…"

"Those are the ones…you make them sound so sterile…"

"However, referring to the Naibens as Munchkins, while perhaps rude and not completely accurate, has as its basis a bit of humor…"

"Yes, Data. Let's just forget it."

"As you say, Geordi." They walked to the Enterprise's lift and exited in front of the Holodeck entrance. Just then, Nehjio and Gratzio came up to the officers, one from each direction. They glared at each other. Nehjio pulled Geordi by the arm and he bent over to hear what the Naiben was saying. Gratzio did the same to Data.

Data spoke: "The Holodeck is a place where our crew can go to get away from work, to relax and recuperate. While I have no need to recuperate, I enjoy using the Holodeck as a creative outlet for my programming skills and as a place to study humanity, which is a fascinating, though illogical subject." The Naibens solemnly nodded their heads.

Geordi snapped his fingers. "Perhaps you and your people would enjoy seeing the latest scenario Data has programmed…" They nodded and left Geordi and Data alone for a few minutes.

"I take it you have something in mind, Geordi…"

"Yes, perhaps if they saw some humor, they would loosen up enough to speak to each other. I think we should show the program as a film, including the images of us, instead of an interactive."

"An interesting concept. I would like to see how we looked and reacted to the various scenes also." He made a few changes in the programming. By this time, the Naibens were coming from both directions. Data had virtual movie seats set up in the holodeck for viewing the "movie", including tiny ones for the Naibens and normal sized seats for himself and Geordi.

Viewing the program as a film was a different experience for Geordi. It was even funnier than being in the interactive program. He listened closely to the reactions of the Naibens. He hoped they would enjoy the film. He supposed the worst that they could do was shoot himself and Data at sunrise…or maybe Jean-Luc would want to have that pleasure…

After a few minutes, Geordi heard some high pitched tittering. It continued and whenever there was something particularly funny, the tittering grew louder, finally, into full-fledged laughter. Continuing on with the film, the laughter just didn't stop. Watching the tiny Naibens break up made Geordi laugh too, it was so contagious. On occasion, the Naibens fell off their chairs and rolled around on the floor.

At the end of the film, the Naibens, from both factions were laughing uncontrollably and some were slapping each other on the back…oddly enough both sides had forgotten their anger at the other faction.

Data turned up the lights. All of the Naibens were smiling and some had their arms around each other, it didn't matter anymore which faction.

"We want more!" yelled Gratzio. "Yes, give us more!" added Nehjio.

Data stood up and called for silence. I have made a short film about who these comics were…I also have another interactive program in which you can all participate."

The Naibens watched the documentary with great interest. Because Data's research on the Naibens had mentioned that they were a very musical people, when not warring, of course, he decided to include them in the last scenario.

The scenario opened in a lush ballroom. Musical instruments stood alone on a stage in the room. Then the comics entered. Johnny and Fiorello took their places at the pianos. Charlie picked up a cello. Larry found his violin. Driftwood strummed a guitar. Tomasso sat down at the harp. Harold joined Moe and Curley at the front of the stage, as did Stanley and Ollie. The music started and the five comics in front sang and danced while the others played. All were impressed by Ollie's extraordinarily good singing voice. There were extra musical instruments and the Naibens slowly got into the act, some playing, others singing or dancing. Some danced on the ballroom floor with other Naibens. Geordi and Data stayed out of the action this time, preferring to watch. The scenario went on for several hours.

When it finally finished, both Naiben leaders thanked Data and Geordi graciously. They shook each others' hands heartily. When they emerged from the Holodeck, Geordi and Data asked to see the Captain in his ready room, accompanied by Gratzio and Nehjio

Jean-Luc was rather taken aback by the smiles on the Naibens' faces and the fact that they had their arms around each other's shoulders. But he got down to business. "When shall we schedule the next round of talks?"

"We don't need any more negotiations…we have ironed out our differences and there won't be any more war," said Nehjio. Gratzio nodded. "We only have one request…"

Jean-Luc felt like he was in the Twilight Zone, things had changed so quickly. "Yes, what is your request?"

"We would like a copy of the film that our two good friends played for us…" spoke up Gratzio.

"Film?" Jean-Luc frowned, then glanced at Geordi and Data. "What are they talking about?"

Geordi explained, and Jean-Luc, happy to see the negotiations at an end, authorized Data to give the Naibens any films they wanted. He invited them to stay on board the Enterprise for the few days they would still be orbiting Naibe.

For most of the rest of the Naibens' stay, they watched films in the Holodeck. Data showed some of the original films by the comics and the Naibens enjoyed those even more than Data and Geordi's film. The Naibens were so enthusiastic, they could hardly wait to show the films to the rest of their compatriots on the planet.

When the Naibens left and the Enterprise D was finally on its way again, Jean-Luc called Geordi and Data to his ready room and played a message from the Admiral. He gave both of the officers a commendation for successful negotiations and a quick end to the endless range wars of the Naibens.

Data was very proud and Geordi was proud of his friend too. "Well, Data, do you understand humor a little better now?"

"I cannot say that I truly get a humorous feeling when I see something funny, however I can identify what is funny and what is not, at least in many cases…"

"I wish you could enjoy it as much as the rest of us…"

"My enjoyment comes from seeing the rest of you appreciating my efforts…and I've learned something…"

"Yes, Data…"

"There are many theories of humor, Geordi and I have studied them all…."

"Data, are you sure theories of humor are even relevant?"

"Perhaps not. But I have learned that if one is laughing at something funny with another person, one cannot be warring with that person."

"Well said, Data, well said." Geordi slapped his friend on the back. The android pretended to trip, almost falling, just catching himself in the nick of time, as if Geordi's light slap had been a mighty blow.

"Was that funny, Geordi?" asked Data.

"Yes, Data, it was very funny…" smiled Geordi.

**The End**

_The cast of characters is listed here because I have used names for some of them from their movies._

**CharlieCharlie.........Chaplin (the Little Tramp)  
****Curley ………………...Curley Howard (3 Stooges)  
****Fiorello ……………… Chico Marx (Marx Brothers)  
****Harold ………………...Harold Lloyd (the daredevil comic)  
****Johnny Gray …………Buster Keaton (the stone-faced comic)  
****L****arry ………………..... Larry Fine (3 Stooges)  
****Moe ……………….........Moe Howard (3 Stooges)  
****Mrs. Claypool …………Margaret Dumont (played in Marx Bros. films)  
****Ollie …………….......…Oliver Hardy (Laurel & Hardy)  
****Otis B. Driftwood ….Groucho Marx (Marx Brothers)  
****Stanley ……………..… Stan Laurel (Laurel & Hardy)  
****Tomasso ……………… Harpo Marx (Marx Brothers)**

**Star Trek characters include Data, Geordi LaForge, Jean-Luc Picard and Will Riker.  
****Fawlty Towers characters include Basil Fawlty, Sybil Fawlty, Polly and Manuel.**


End file.
